Lucky
by Tangledupandsideways
Summary: A change in their lives pushes Gillian to approach Cal about their feelings. Inspired by Adele's "All I Ask". Update: final chapter added
1. Chapter 1

Gillian had talked herself into and out of doing this so many times she doesn't even know what she had hoped to accomplish anymore. All she knows is that she can't continue on this way, not with her best friend and especially not if the rumours she's hearing are true. She sighs and watches her car windows fog over as her fingers tap absently on the gearshift. The house stands out against the snow, brown bricks nearly comforting in their familiarity. Three steps up to the door, she knows them by heart, and she can't stomach the thought of never walking them again.

She shakes her head, twisting the key to turn off the idling car. It's dumb to be afraid of this, of Cal. He's never once set out to make her genuinely uncomfortable. He wouldn't say anything to hurt her, not about this.

The front door swings open just as Gillian slams her car door behind her and pulls the sleeves of her coat over her fingers to ward off the chill. She leans against her car door as she waits for him to approach, crossing her arms over her chest.

He stops at the edge of his walkway, his feet stuffed into awful bunny slippers and dressed in flannel pyjama pants and a worn Henley with sleeves pushed up to the elbows.

"Hi," she says.

"Saw your car," he shrugs. "Thought you weren't gonna come in."

"I wasn't going to at first," Gillian sighs. "Then I was."

He crosses his arms, then uncrosses them to wring his hands together instead.

"It's cold, Foster."

She shivers as if prompted by his words. She takes a few steps towards him, still leaving a breadth of space between them.

Shrugging, she says, "I've gotten pretty used to the cold."

He stiffens where she'd deflate, shoulders rising and pressing back and voice going strong.

"Ouch," he says. "Wouldn't say the same to you."

"Except you would, Cal, if you were speaking to me. Which is why I'm here, by the way."

"It's warmer inside."

The tips of his ears and nose are bright pink and he crosses his arms again, this time to warm them. His eyes catch hers, so he hops from foot to foot, losing the focus. She could get more from him in his own home.

"Okay."

She lets him lead her up the walkway, barely able to feel his hand in the small of her back through the layers of her coat. The pressure is no less comforting. She counts the steps, three of them, still that awkward steepness that made them a pain to climb in heels.

Gillian stops as soon as she steps into the foyer, blocking half of the door as she peers into his home. The walls are the same olive green, the carpets still cream, but there are cardboard boxes piled in the corners and crevices, making her breaths come heavier.

"Gillian?"

He nudges gently against her shoulder and she startles, jumping slightly before moving to the side. She toes off her boots and flexes her toes in her socks. She peels off gloves and stuffs them into the pocket of her coat before hanging it on the rack.

She hadn't actually planned to stay, just step inside his house and ask whether or not he'd still be here at Christmas, in the New Year, when her birthday came around in the spring. The answer being obvious, she has no reason to ask, but instinct has her preparing to stay. Obviously, the two of them had very different sets of instincts.

"You're really going," she says quietly.

Cal nods once, then twice.

"Coffee? You know, I could _murder_ a cup of tea."

She rolls her eyes.

"Classic Cal Lightman: deflection, refusal to act like an adult, ego the size of Manhattan. Were you ever gonna tell me?"

"You're the only one I wanted to tell, love."

She sighs. "Why do you do that? That makes me so angry."

"Gill," he says.

"No, Cal. You tell me this. If I was the one you wanted to tell so badly, why am I the last to know?"

He looks at his feet. When he tries to face her, his eyes catch a photo frame instead. Gillian follows his line of sight. It's her and Emily smiling brightly in front of the Christmas tree they had decorated for the Lightman Group Christmas party, Gillian's arm around Emily's shoulders.

He shrugs, eyes finding hers. "Just couldn't."

"You can't say it," she accuses, shaking her head slowly.

"That's what I just said."

"No, it isn't. Please just… you don't have to lie to me. You've never had to lie to me."

He turns his back to her so he doesn't have to see the words her face speaks.

"'Cept I do, Gillian, 'cause all I ever do's hurt you."

"Cal," her voice pitching higher as her hand meets his arm.

"I haven't seen my family in a long time, you know. And with Em off to college, there's no reason I need to be here."

Gillian moves to stand in front of him. "Not the Group?"

"You'd do just fine without me."

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes on the ground again.

"Actually, I don't think I would," she says. "I…"

She searches his face, reaching for any reassurance that her actions may be welcome despite all the tension between them. He still looks at her unlike she's ever seen him look at anyone else, just softer than he usually is, kinder. Some days, she swears she sees something a little like love in the warmth of his eyes. The only question is whether or not there's any intention, any desire to make fantasy into reality.

"Cal, I… I need you to say it. I need to hear it."

She squirms under his stare, his eyes the same grey colour as her dress. Her eyes had looked particularly blue in the mirror this morning and her freckles form constellations across her skin. She moves closer, struggling to string her thoughts together into a coherent sentence, one that didn't leave her so open to the possibility of rejection.

She blinks at him, cocking her head in that way that opens her up to him completely.

"Cal?"

His eyes pop wide, eyebrows rising up.

"I'm sorry that I didn't tell you first. I didn't want to hurt you."

Her expression melts warmer. "Because?"

"I think you already know the answer to that one, Gill."

He crosses his arms, drawing her eyes to the tattoo that peeks from under his sleeve where his bicep bulges.

"I need to hear you say it," she says, resting a hand on his chest.

"I'm gonna miss you, you know that?" she adds.

"I know. I'll miss you too," he says, swallowing around the lump that forms in his throat. "I love you, Gillian."

She sways closer, her hands catching against his arms. She closes her eyes and takes in the lightness, the airiness of her being. This is not a mere fantasy, not a slight crush. This is real, this is honest, and this is her last chance.

Her forehead falls against his, bringing them closer together than they've ever been. Every breath between them is laboured, heavy and quick. She doesn't think, just moves. His shirt is clutched in her fingers and her mouth so close that she breathes his breaths, can feel how soft his lips are only millimetres away.

He pulls back quickly, dislodging her completely. She recovers before stumbling backwards half a step, her cheeks burning red.

"I'm sorry," she says.

She shakes her head, eyes on the entrance tile.

"No, it's honest."

Her eyelashes flutter. "I love you."

His eyes shut slowly, his hand winding through his hair.

"I shouldn't have come. I'll go," she says.

She focuses on the pounding in her chest and pretends it doesn't hurt. She pulls her coat down from the rack and flips it around her body. Before she can wind her arms through, Cal grabs the fabric and frees it from her hold.

"Stay Gill? Please?"

Her eyes burn when she looks at him. She smiles, just a slight lifting of her mouth. Her dimple doesn't show.

"Okay."

He reaches out like he's going to touch her, but withdraws with a sigh. He sticks his hands into his pockets instead.

"I'm not a good man," he says. "I don't mean to most of the time, but I just hurt you like clockwork. I've hurt you now. I'm going to London. It would just be cruel."

"There are telephones, planes. I'm not asking you to stay."

He looks at her, eyes hard.

"You think I'm naive," she says, eyes narrowing.

"I think you want more than I can give you or and I think that you deserve that. I'm going to hurt you again."

He puts her coat back on the rack, brushing against her arm as he does so.

"You really think that after all the years I've known you, I could expect hopeless romance from you? You still can't accept that romance novels _are_ novels," she says. "You make me happy."

"Yeah and at what expense?"

"You're such an idiot," she laughs. "It's one I'm ready to pay."

His eyes linger on her face even as her laugh melts into a smirk. She hardens her features momentarily.

"Don't read me, just kiss me," she says.

His lips crash down on hers, actually surprising her in their eagerness. She clutches at his arms for balance, returning his kiss with all the emotion she had kept buried for too long. He pulls her closer, his hands fluttering at her waist, then weaving through her hair as his tongue explores her mouth. His sigh echoes against her teeth as he slowly pulls away, irises glittering around dilated pupils. She smiles, bringing her hand up to touch his cheek.

"Stay?" he asks again, the tone a lot tenser.

"I told you I would," she says, bringing them nose to nose.

"I mean _stay,_ Gill."

"You thought I didn't know?"

She wiggles her eyebrows and he grins from ear to ear. He brings her against his chest, wrapping his arms around her.

"You always know," he says. "How lucky."

* * *

 _Edited as of 25/11/2017 for grammar, tense, style, flow, and the elimination of head-hopping. I hope it reads better now_.


	2. Chapter 2

Gillian wakes to the feeling of eyes on her skin. Blinking rapidly as her eyes adjust to the brightness of the sunlit room, she stretches her arms over her head and releases an open-mouthed yawn. She is slow to realize that she's not at home in bed but tangled up in Cal's sheets in nothing but her silk panties and his starched shirt.

Her cheeks are warm as she turns over to meet his watching, holding the panels of the shirt together with one hand. "Hi," she smiles.

"Morning," he says.

His eyes follow to her hand clutching for modesty, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. He obviously doesn't understand how the morning could be different. But for her it is. She shifts into half-sitting, leaning casually against the headboard as she draws her limbs away from Cal. She wonders if he was intrigued or disrupted by her snoring. She'd always done it. But his hair is mussed and his cheek imprinted from the pillow like he's had sleep so she hopes it's the former.

Her hand is tentative to touch him, but after a few moments rests on his cheek. She rubs her knuckles against his skin and wriggles slightly closer. He wraps an arm around her, putting them chest to chest. Gillian leans her cheek against the curve of his neck and closes her eyes to the comfort of Cal running his hands up and down her back. Her warm breath pillows back against her chin as she breathes by his shoulder. Cal holds Gillian until it gets really warm, then puts space between them.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks abruptly, her face coming up from its study of the sheets to meet his eyes, hers wide. Her fingertips that were resting against his shoulder in a loose embrace dig into his skin.

"Cal-" she says, her voice seizing in the space before she gasps. She forces her face still, imagining stone unchanging through millennia, just sitting in the bottom of the ocean where nothing ever happens. It was likely inaccurate, but a comforting thought.

"I would, Gill. If you wanted," he replies, nodding in her general vicinity but no longer meeting her eyes.

"Cal-" she begins again, her words clipped and taut and her cheeks heating up again for an all-new reason.

"I mean, honest here, it's always been up to you, Gill."

"Shouldn't be," she huffs, rubbing her palm into his chest in what was meant as a comforting gesture as she finally gets a word in.

"And why not, Gill?"

Her heart races with a surge of adrenaline.

"Because it has to be what you want. You have to do what you want or I-I would hate myself," she says, eyes falling back down to where her fingers make contact with his chest.

She moves her hand over the muscular expanse, absently searching out his heartbeat. As she feels its pulsing against her palm, she gets a firm grip on her emotions.

"I want what you want."

He says it as if it was the easiest truth that has ever passed his lips. It unsettles her, though, that she can't hear a lie in it even though she'd been listening for just that.

"No," she shakes her head. "That's not-"

She sighs, withdrawing her touch to run her fingers through her hair.

"I pushed you. Yesterday, I pushed you. I made you say it even though you didn't...weren't...I just don't want you to hate me," she says, voice quiet and unsure. "And, well what if you're wrong?"

She knows that a refusal to meet his eyes probably reads as shame even as she does it, but looking at him would be far worse. Then, she'd be showing everything.

"Heavens, Gill! I don't-I could never hate you," he insists.

He tips her chin up with his thumb, a slight frown on his face. She tucks in against his chest, hiding from the intensity of his gaze.

"If you want to go, you should. I'd be just fine," she says, words muffled by his undershirt.

"Wouldn't miss me?"

"Of course I would, you know that."

That manages to shut him up for a minute as he mulls it over, winding an arm around her shoulders.

"I would've told you," he says finally.

She smiles at him, but it's lopsided, only pulling all the way up on the right side.

"I know."

"So tell me, love. Do you want me to stay? 'Cause I don't-I..."

"You don't what, Cal? Use your words," she teases gently, covering how desperately she wants a certain answer from him.

"I don't want to stay unless I'm staying for you, for us this way."

The words come in a rush, flowing as sure as the waters of a stream even as his face crumples in doubt.

"Oh," she says, lips parted. "You want..."

"Yeah..."

She is silent for a long time before she squeezes against his arm.

"I want that, too."

"Really?"

She nods, hearing his tone pitch higher without losing any fullness.

"If you want to stay, I would gladly stay with you. Like this."

"In my house?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows playfully.

She swats at him, though not hard enough to make him think her entirely serious.

"Maybe if you ask nicely," she teases.

"I didn't want to be alone here, but I never wanted to leave you... You know I love you."

She smiles.

"Yeah, I know."

Content, she lays her head against his chest, listening intently to the sure stuttering of his heart. His arm winds tighter around her, making her feel warm and safe.

"Thank you for staying," Gillian says. "For letting me love you."

* * *

 _Edited as of 25/11/2017 for grammar, tense, style, flow, and the elimination of head-hopping._


	3. Chapter 3

Cal and Gillian lay side by side in his bed, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking when Gillian suddenly registers a piece of information.

"Cal," she says, urging him to turn his attention to her.

"Hmm?" he replies.

"What'd you tell Emily when you told her you weren't going to England, anymore?" she asks, half-turning in his direction and propping up her head on her palm.

"I told her I found a reason to stay," he says, smiling at her surprise.

She feels boneless as she listens to his soft, gentle intonation.

"You tell her about us?" she asks.

He hmms again, seeming to be thinking back on his video call conversation with his daughter the week before.

"Not directly, no. But, I think she's smart enough to put the pieces together."

"I want us to tell her together in person the next time she's in DC," Gillian offers casually.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course," Cal says, but she can hear the twinge of anxiety as the words come out.

"What is it?" Gillian asks.

"I… She's coming down for a visit this weekend," he says.

"Oh, really? When does her flight get in?" Gillian smiles.

"Um, four this afternoon."

She blinks at him in surprise, face blank.

"You-She's-What?" she struggles, working through the shock.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It's just, I wanted you with me and I knew that if I told you, you'd insist on boundaries and space and all that."

He manages to at least seem sheepish as he gesticulates more wildly than usual.

"I would not," she argues, but she quickly realises she's already pulling away.

"Just, please spend the evening with us. I know Em wants to see you. She's been calling you, hasn't she?"

Gillian nods in answer.

"Okay," Gill acquiesces. "But, I'm not staying the night."

He holds his hands up in surrender, "Just need you with me. As much as you'll allow."

She sighs, searching out his hand and sliding hers against his palm. She twines their fingers together, rubbing her thumb against the webbing between his index finger and thumb.

"I'm not going anywhere," she promises.

"Come to the airport with me?" he grins.

"Funny," she says, rolling her eyes. They both know the answer is yes.

She doesn't know how she ever used to go so long without touching him. When Emily meets them near the baggage claim a few hours later, she hugs them each in turn and starts chatting easily about school and friends and California. Gillian feels the ghost of his hand in hers like a phantom limb and feels lost without his touch somewhere against her body. She brushes against him as they walk next to each other to the car, just to feel it again.

The drive back to Cal's feels hours long, though it's really not more than one. But, she talks to Emily and finds she really did miss the girl being so near.

"We really missed you here, Em," she smiles as they walk up the Lightmans' front steps arm in arm.

"I missed you guys, too," she grins.

They settle quickly into their old routine, she and Cal starting on dinner while Em sits at the kitchen island, helping some, but mostly just entertaining them as they work. But when Gillian turns around to get the onions Emily was supposed to have diced, she finds the girl transfixed at the scene before her.

"There's something different," Emily accuses, gesturing between Cal and Gillian. "You're dating, aren't you?"

Cal turns around at that to stare at his daughter. After a brief moment of intense scrutiny, he smirks.

"Good one, Em. Obviously, you learned from the best."

Gillian rolls her eyes at him.

"We were going to tell you tonight," she shrugs.

"That is... Oh my God! Do you guys even know how long I've been waiting for this? You're happy? Tell me you're happy!"

Gillian laughs earnestly, looking at the wide-eyed, smiling girl in front of her.

"We're happy," she agrees.

Gillian gently pulls the knife from Emily's hand and begins to chop the onions herself, unable to keep the hinted smile from taking up residence on her mouth.

"When did this happen?" Emily asks, seemingly oblivious to Gillian taking over her task.

"Few weeks," Cal replies as Gill hands him the onions and goes to start on a side salad.

"Oh my God!" she exclaims again. "Gillian! Gillian's the reason you stayed! Am I right?"

"You're right, Em. Now, will you calm down? This has been a long time coming."

"I know. But, Dad, you can be an idiot sometimes. Maybe I thought you'd screw it up," Emily shrugs.

Gillian struggles to hold in her laughter.

"Butter the bread, Em. Can't let everyone else do the work for you," Cal jokingly jibes.

Em looks surprised to see that the onions she was meant to be chopping were already part of a ground beef mix, which Cal was pouring spaghetti sauce into.

"Oh alright," she sighs, taking the loaf she'd sliced and carefully buttering each piece and setting them up on a plate.

When the meal is finished being prepared, they head into the dining room, carrying pots and plates and utensils.

"You staying the night, Gill?" Emily asks, setting the plate of buttered bread down before sitting down.

Gillian puts down the salad and dressings and takes her seat as well.

"No," she says. "Not tonight."

"You can, you know?" Emily shrugs. "I got this awesome pair of noise-reducing headphones to study, but I'm sure they have other applications, too."

"Emily!" Cal and Gillian exclaim in sync, equally horrified. Gillian blushes as red as a tomato.

"What? I'm in college. I know things," she smirks.

"Maybe I should quit paying your tuition."

"Cal!" Gillian says just as Emily calls out an exasperated "Dad!"

Cal laughs, holding onto his stomach.

"I was kidding, mostly."

"It's the 'mostly' that worries me," Em says, turning to Gill.

And the two of them share a look that seems a lot like the beginnings of a new kind of camaraderie. Cal can't help but smile at the thought. He was a lucky git after all.

* * *

 _Edited as of 25/11/2017 for grammar, tense, style, flow, and the elimination of head-hopping._


End file.
